


Quiet Storms

by RighteousNerd



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Junior Agents Phil and Melinda, Philinda Secret Santa, boring mission, slight dancing involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2828138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RighteousNerd/pseuds/RighteousNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junior Agents Melinda May and Phil Coulson out on a boring stakeout. Written for MelindaTheCavalryMay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Storms

The rain beats steady against the windows, and every gust of wind blows through their room bringing in a constant draft. The rooms they were provided aren't much, sparse and cramped but clean. They've been holed up for days, and while it's not even a remotely glamorous assignment (it's not even all that interesting), such is the life of Junior agents of SHIELD. 

Outside, lightning flashes, occasionally brightening their windows in sharp light. At this point, Melinda is starting to wonder if the mission would be better off scrubbed. Her and her partner are supposed to be surveilling the crime syndicate across the street but, in all actuality can't see five feet out the window. The constant deluge has forced them to rely solely on the audio from a few well placed bugs, and while that's at least something, they have very little to show for all their effort. Either these are the laziest criminals, or they too are waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Melinda breaths evenly, at least she tries to. She is only halfway through her Tai Chi routine, but can't seem to find the focus necessary to complete. The harder she tries, the more illusive it becomes. It isn't boredom, the storm or even that their mission is most likely a bust driving her to distraction. While those things are definitely somewhere in the back of her mind, it's rather her partner that occupies her thoughts. Phil, who is currently listening to the audio feed, headphones snug around his ears in an effort to not disturb her. Phil, who keeps surreptitiously watching her from the couch where they had set up operations. She's caught him a few times, but only because she was secretly trying to steal glances at him. 

Giving up the pretense, she stops mid stance, turning to consider him fully. It's new, this unspoken understanding they have. She doesn't know what exactly, but it's pretty obvious that there's something more than partnership between them. They haven't discussed it, barely even adjusted for it yet, but there is something else there. Something that's left her feeling eager and nervous, and very, very aware of him. Especially when she catches him looking at her like that. 

Pulling the headphones from his ears, he arches a brow in question. "You're not going to finish?"

After all the time they've spent together, he knows her routine well. If nothing else, they're very good partners. 

"Not really in the mood." She tells him, and considers leaving it at that, but restlessness mixed with uncertainty is making her bold. "Besides, you were staring. It's distracting."

"Sorry" he says quickly, having the decency to look mildly sheepish. "It's very... Soothing. Watching you, I mean."

It's not what Melinda was expecting him to say, but in a way she supposes it's better. She's only recently given herself permission to find Phil adorable, but now that she has she finds she rather likes it. That she likes him. 

"What do we have?" She asks, sitting down next to him on the couch, gesturing to their surveillance set up.

He unplugs the headphones and turns the volume down. "Most everyone seems to be in for the night. A few guards posted at the usual locations. Some of the higher ups and a few varied henchmen are drinking. So far, nothing of note is being discussed, unless you want to hear a very detailed and kind of skeevy list comparing the attributes between their wives and girlfriends."

Melinda doesn't. "Thanks, but I'm good."

"I'll run through it later. There might be something of use. Leverage, maybe."

She nods, agreeing. "And the big boss?"

Phil flips the volume switch again, and the soft sounds of instrumental strings play through the speakers. Melinda has to admit, it's lovely.

"What's he doing?" She asks.

"Near as I can tell, just listening to music. He asked not to be disturbed, poured himself a drink, and turned on his stereo. Kind of pretty, isn't it?" He's giving her that look again, as he talks. The one that makes her fingers restless and her stomach flutter. She doesn't remember his eyes being so blue, but then she doesn't usually get much opportunity for uninterrupted inspection.

"I guess even bad guys need a quiet night in." She murmurs. Maybe it's a night for murmurs, she thinks, and softly spoken words cloaked in music and rain.

"And what about secret agents?" He asks. It seems a simple question, but they both know there's nothing simple about it. They're talking about everything and nothing all at once, and knowing Phil, there's a specific answer he's hoping for.

"Secret agents definitely need quiet nights in." She decides. It's the only answer she can give. "Although better scenery would be preferred."

He chuckles at that, glancing around at their room and then back at her. "It's definitely not the Ritz, is it?"

"No, it's not." He's watching her lips now, and she has to resist the urge to lick them. "The company's not bad though."

The song ends, leaving only the pattering of rain and the wind howling outside to fill the silence. Slowly, the quiet chords of piano ring from the tiny speakers, and are soon joined by the smoky voice of a lady crooner. 

Phil's eyes flick up to hers, and a small, hopeful smile plays across his face as he asks, "Do you want to dance?"

"Now?"

"Sure, why not?" He stands, offering Melinda his hand. "Dance with me? They're playing our song." 

She places her hand in his, and let's him pull her gently to him. Her hands find his shoulders, while his move to her waist. They're so close, closer than they ever let themselves get. Melinda could reach up and run her finger along the stubble at his jaw, and now that she's here, it seems like something she very much would like to do. How would he react? Would he lean into her touch? Would he pull away? She's not yet sure she can let go of him long enough to find out, not yet. She can hear the wind and rain, there's jazz playing from somewhere far away, but right now, right here, she's got to hold on to him because something's changing, something is shifting between them. This is big and important, and Melinda can't do it without her partner. 

She wants to know what makes him so sure of this, whatever it is, and of her. "How do you know this is our song?" 

"Melinda, it's always our song." He says in earnest affection. Maybe it is simple after all.

Together, they sway softly until the song ends. Whoever is at the other end of those speakers doesn't start another, and they're left with only the silence between them. Even the weather seems to have been calmed, or maybe she just no longer hears it. She's in Phil Coulson's arms and everything else has gone quiet. 

This is the moment, she's ready now, and Melinda leans up on her tip toes to press her lips against his jaw. He sighs, happily, his eyes sliding shut. Their breaths mingle, foreheads press together, and an alarm goes off.

An. Alarm. Goes. Off. 

It's the proximity sensors from across the street playing over the speakers, and Phil and Melinda disengage quickly. They've got work to do. 

"We've got a third party on the premises." Phil announces from the feed monitor as she pulls on her tac vest and then checks her weapon. Whatever their targets have been waiting for, it seems to have arrived. The sound of gunfire pops through the feed. "They're evacuating the leadership. East exit."

"I'll tail them. See where they land." She responds, already reaching for the door. 

"May." Their eyes meet, and in that one second, his message is clear: be careful. 

Melinda nods, knowing he understands. She'll always come back to him. They're only at the beginning, but now that it's happening, that they've started, she can't fathom missing any of it. Besides, they have quiet nights in to look forward to.


End file.
